


haunts me every time i close my eyes

by teenagedenigma



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Drabble, M/M, harry is the only character that's actually there the rest are all only mentioned, i couldn't come up with a good summary for this one sorry, this is just 900 words of sadness what can i say
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-05
Updated: 2014-07-05
Packaged: 2018-02-07 13:22:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1900467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teenagedenigma/pseuds/teenagedenigma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"he's never felt more incompetently young than in this moment. maybe if he were older, wiser, more mature, louis wouldn't have gotten sick of him. maybe it wouldn't have mattered."</p>
            </blockquote>





	haunts me every time i close my eyes

**Author's Note:**

> title from when i was your man by bruno mars, which basically inspired this whole thing

harry's not quite in the best mood.  
  
he's sprawled out on his couch wearing his second favorite sweater (louis still has his absolute favorite), surrounded by an embarrassing amount of empty ice cream cartons (louis's favorite flavor) and trying to pay attention to grease (louis's favorite movie). suffice to say, he's not doing a very good job of not thinking about louis.  
  
 _louis._  harry huffs, throwing his plastic spoon at the tv, crinkling his nose when it leaves a smear of ice cream on both the screen and the floor where it clatters pitifully. he scowls as danny keeps trying to kiss sandy at the drive through, his mind immediately skipping back to the videos of louis in his school production of grease. so this isn't harry's best idea.  
  
he violently presses the off button on the tv remote, which he then throws across the room. it slams against the wall and falls to the floor, the battery compartment popping open and the batteries skidding in every direction. he groans, stuffing his face into a pillow that still smells faintly like louis. louis louis louis. harry is pathetic.  
  
they were fighting. a lot. more than harry has ever fought with a boyfriend or girlfriend. hell, more than he fought with his sister when they were kids. at first they only fought about beards, about coming out, about how much they'd let management push them around. those were the easiest for harry to handle; they weren't stupid fights, and he and louis would always fall into the same bed, into apologies, into forgiveness. but then they started fighting about every little thing; louis used too much toothpaste, harry didn't put enough milk in the cereal, louis forgot to put a dryer sheet in the laundry, harry used up the last of the shaving cream. before he knew it, louis was sleeping on the very edge of the bed, then the couch, then at eleanor's. because of course, louis would go to eleanor. he could very well have gone to one of the boys, but that wouldn't piss harry off quite like going to eleanor.  
  
he can't even hate the girl. she's always so sweet and understanding of any situation, and harry easily considers her a good friend. it'd be easier if she was a major bitch.  
  
harry's the one at fault here, and he knows it. it sort of feels like it's always his fault. he's never felt more incompetently young than in this moment. maybe if he were older, wiser, more mature, louis wouldn't have gotten sick of him. maybe it wouldn't have mattered.  
  
gemma, liam, and niall have all tried to explain that it's not his fault, that the breakup took two people screwing up, not one, but harry knows better than that. zayn came over to get him high and try to cheer him up, but it didn't work. zayn's a massive know-it-all when he's high, and he knows just as well as harry that louis did nothing wrong. louis always has been, always will be perfect. at least zayn was gentler in blaming harry than harry had been.  
  
he stares at the wall through red rimmed eyes, head pounding. he'd like to think it's pounding in synch with louis's heartbeat (he swears he can still hear it).  
  
his phone chirps from where it's fallen under the couch cushions, alerting him that louis's posted a new tweet. he keeps meaning to turn that off, but. it's the closest thing he has to knowing what louis's doing.  
  
but god, he wishes he didn't know. maybe, just maybe, if he'd stayed off twitter like he knew he should, he wouldn't have seen the pictures of louis with greg, of all people. harry never really liked greg.   
  
he'd asked niall about it, last time he'd visited. the blond had taken a long swig of his beer and swallowed hard before nodding slowly. harry had sighed and unpaused their video game, ignoring his friend's sympathetic glances.  
  
he hates himself, a bit. he could've been so much better, more patient, more loving. he loved louis with every fiber of his being, but maybe he didn't show it properly. maybe he's too young to even know what love is.  
  
there's no other word for how he felt about louis. how he feels about louis.  
  
he's written eight songs since louis packed his duffle bag and walked out without a word. every time he finished one, he had to physically stop himself from sending it to louis. seeking the older boy's approval has become a nasty habit.  
  
harry hopes greg knows what he has, now. he hopes he doesn't and screws up even worse than he did. he hopes louis finds everything he could ever want in a person. he hopes that person can be him again one day.  
  
he could really use some sleep.  
  
harry drags himself off the couch, draping the blanket he'd been engulfed in over his shoulders, and trudges up the stairs. he tries to ignore how his chest tightens up when he trips over one of louis's sneakers in the doorway of their— his— bedroom. he crawls into bed, letting out yet another sob at how empty and cold it feels, and burrows under the covers, hugging louis's pillow and muffling his cries into it. he cries and cries and cries until he falls asleep, hair pressed against his head and snot running down his chin and heart aching.

**Author's Note:**

> sorry


End file.
